Extraordinary
by Andry
Summary: One night in a posh club, a man boasts to a stranger that his daughter is capable of spectacular magical feats. Loosely based on the story of Rumpelstiltskin.


Extraordinary

Friday nights at the Basil Leaf Club sometimes brought in a more exotic crowd than was usual for the small, exclusive organization. At ten o'clock that evening the streets were silent but for the odd wet slosh of a car, its headlights piercing sharply the faint glow cast by the street lamps. Inside the club was quiet, soft voices murmuring langouredly, points of silver and gold glinting in the low light off of elegantly endowed wrists. The room was dimly lit, almost to darkness, but at the bar three men could be seen gathered together. They had begun the evening discussing politics but now that an evening of wine had impaired their conversational skills, they talked of their children.

"I caught him breaking into the third floor study yesterday," one of the men was saying. "Where we keep our - you know - less friendly pieces - "

"Of course."

"Ruth wasn't happy but I think it's natural. Natural curiousity. I was curious. Couldn't wait to get my hands on my parents' Dark Arts things. And I know my older boy's been learning hexes since he first went off to school."

"My oldest daughter, too," another man said. He had been drinking the most of the three. "I've gotten all kinds of owls about her behavior. Naughty girl. She's my girl. Got a real aptitude for Dark Arts - a real aptitude."

"Fine girl."

"Just fine."

"My pride and joy. She's my girl. All mine, always been mine. So talented."

"They're all talented. They're all miraculous - miracles. Perfect little miracles."

"She's special - she's something. So talented. She can - why, she can - perform Imperius, even, I've seen her. She's my girl, she's really - "

"You say she can perform the Imperius curse?"

The cold voice startled the three men out of their conversation and they turned to see another man sitting at the bar several seats down. His head was turned toward them in profile, the hood of his robes drawn up so that they could not see his face.

"I don't suppose I was talking to you about it," the other man said belligerently. "But if you want to know, she can. She certainly can."

"She must be a witch of great power," the stranger said silkily. "How old is she?"

"Thirteen just this month. If you don't mind me asking your name - "

"I give my name to no one," the hooded man cut in. His voice was like ice. "Tell me more about this child, sir."

"Well," the man said. "She's at Hogwarts. Going into her third year - she's on break now. Still studying, though. Quite a studier. Likes to study. She's in Slytherin, of course, we wouldn't have it any other way, but I think she's got the best of all the Houses in her, really - bright and brave and she works so hard. I love my daughters, never doubt I do, each in their own way - "

"How many do you have?"

"Three. She's the oldest. She's my girl."

"What of the other two? Are they as gifted as this young lady?"

"Not by a long shot," the man said, wistfully. "They're - no, no, they aren't the same. They're their mother's girls, you know? And I don't begrudge them being their mother's girls but I can't feel the same closeness and the - the same kinship - being that they are, you understand. But my oldest, my girl, she's all mine, got her head on right. Brightest little girl I know. But my other girls - no, no. Not in the same league."

"How disappointing," the stranger said. "What is she like?"

"Oh, well," the man said. "She's not a normal girl, mark you. She's not interested in magazines or Quidditch or things like that. She likes reading - reads a lot, likes nonfiction, can't abide fiction, says it's all lies and nonsense. Reads all kinds of things. Even muggle books when she can, says she wants to be well-versed. Oh, the things that come from her mouth! And she dances and plays the piano. She'll be an accomplished young lady soon. But usually she just reads and practices her spellwork, which as I'm sure you can imagine is capital."

"She sounds very charming," said the stranger. "I have a proposition for you, sir. I am very interested in this child who you claim can perform the Imperius Curse. If you can demonstrate to me that she is indeed capable of such a feat, I would consent to take her on as an apprentice."

"An apprentice!" The man was surprised. "Why - for what?"

"You say she studies her schoolwork devotedly," the stranger said in his soothing, silky voice. "But I can give this gifted young woman greater scope for her voracious appetite to learn than an institution such as Hogwarts could ever hope to. If she can prove herself worthy, I will give her an education such as she could never imagine, and show her power beyond her wildest dreams."

Though the stranger spoke softly, his words reverberated in the sudden hush of the room. All eyes were turned toward; conversations dangled in mid-sentence, fine wines glittering in crystal glasses held up halfway to waiting lips. The stranger did not seem to notice the attention.

"All right," said the man, dazed. "She'll do it."

The stranger took out a slip of parchment. "Bring her to this address tomorrow at noon," he said, scribbling out a street and flat number in London. "I'll decide whether she will do it."

I was angry at Father for dragging me out of the house on Saturday, when I had planned to spend all afternoon looking over a new potions text my uncle brought me from Germany when he came to visit last night, so I didn't really talk to him or ask him much about where we were going. I didn't really care, even. But once we got there and I saw it was this little rundown flat I admit I was a little curious and if I hadn't been so upset I would have asked what this was all about.

But I didn't know the man who answered the door and I thought I knew all of Father's connections. But Father didn't seem to know him either, which was distinctly odd.

He asked my name and I told him I was Bellatrix. He smiled and said it was very pretty, which I don't agree about but am too polite to say otherwise.

The man, whose name was Mr. Mulciber, led us both inside. It was a little one-bedroom studio flat, very sparsely furnished and with no decorations or anything. I wondered if Mr. Mulciber lived here all alone - he looked like a bachelor - and I got a little sad because that seemed sort of awful. I'm not one for a lot of clutter and nonsense but he didn't even have any nice paintings or anything. It was horribly lonely-looking.

Mr. Mulciber and Father were talking very quietly and it was obvious they didn't want me to overhear. Well, I'm no Narcissa, poking my nose in where I know it's not wanted, so I stood there and tried to be polite and not listen. I supposed that they had some business deal or other to take care of and that maybe Father had someplace nice to take me afterward. If I'dve known they were talking about me right then I can assure you, though, I would've listened quite carefully. I've got my manners but I know what's what and you have to know what people are saying about you or it puts you at a distinct disadvantage.

Father was looking very nervous. I wondered what the trouble was. Maybe he had made Mr. Mulciber angry, and he brought me along because he thought Mr. Mulciber wouldn't hurt him or do anything mean to him while I was there.

"Fine," Father said. "Fine. I'll be back in half an hour."

He went for the door and I made to follow him, but Mr. Mulciber gestured me back. "Stay here, Bellatrix," he told me. "Your father will come back to get you later."

I was a little frightened, but Father didn't seem to have any reservations. He told me he'd see me soon and left. I felt suddenly adrift, and hugged my arms around my torso.

Mr. Mulciber had me sit down at the table and he took a seat across from me. He served me tea and asked me about school and my hobbies and those things. He spoke very quietly and very measuredly and I found I was speaking exactly the same way. But then I am always very careful about what I say. I hate to say things I regret so I always think about what I'm saying before I say it. My sisters don't do that and they sound like absolute fools so I've tried to learn my lesson by their stupidity, since it only seems right that some good should come of it.

I still didn't understand what I was doing here, alone, without Father. What did Mr. Mulciber want with me? It was all so strange. I felt a little special, though, that this man was so interested in me and wanted to know about me. Usually only people from my family asked me what my favorite subject was and how I liked to play the piano, and you could see that they were only asking because they had to and couldn't find anything more interesting to talk about.

Finally, though, he seemed to want to settle down to business. He sighed and looked at me silently for a moment. I tried to ignore it but I was very nervous all of a sudden.

"Bellatrix, you know why you're here," he said at last. "You are - well, apparently you're a young woman possessed of exceptional talents. And whether you realize it or not, you have a most - a - a most incredible opportunity laying before you."

I was completely lost. What was he talking about? I didn't know why I was here. But I tried not to let on how confused I was, because I didn't want him to think I was incompetent or anything. I'd just play along and see what happened.

He paused for a long moment, still staring at me. I was a little uncomfortable.

"The Dark Lord," Mr. Mulciber said at last, in his slow, quiet voice, "is a man of extraordinary talents. More extraordinary than you or I can hope to comprehend. He is on a great quest - a divine quest - a divine search for purity, and truth. The chance to be trained by him is ... almost beyond imagining. You cannot - no, you cannot understand the enormity of the opportunity being offered to you. I advise you only to take this most seriously."

I didn't understand. I was so scared. I was shaking and sweating and breathing quickly. Who was the Dark Lord, and how would he find purity and truth? I knew now that all my life I had searched for purity and truth, looked for it fruitlessly in books and texts, as if they could tell me anything - I knew now they were meaningless, that my long search had been all in vain. There was one path to purity and truth and I knew instinctively that now, at this very moment, I was poised on the edge of it.

Trained by Him? Did he mean me, was that my opportunity? I couldn't believe it. All my life I had known I was different, even special, though I was loathe to say the word - but I had thought it was just my imagination, that really I was just like everyone else, with no distinguishing spark of brilliance or anything. But for the Dark Lord to _know_, for Him to single me out, to find me and my soul and my tiny, quivering, flickering spark amongst the darkness of thousands - he was extraordinary indeed.

I was shaking straight through but I barely noticed. I was consumed. Here at last, this was it. It was incredible to me, unbelievable that I had been waiting all my life for this moment and had never even known it.

Mr. Mulciber led me down the hall to the room at the back. He knocked softly and opened the door for me, then retreated back to the dining room.

I stepped through. Seated at a tall desk at the far corner of the room was a man in a black robe with the hood pulled up to hide his face so that I could barely see him, although I got the impression that something was different about his face.

He spoke. "Come here, child," he said to me. "Let me get a look at you."

I stepped forward, barely even aware of my own body. He was silent for a moment.

"What is your name, little girl?"

I told him. His voice was so soft, so soothing. I wanted to weep.

"Are you frightened, child?" he asked. "Yes, I see that you are. Do not worry, little one. You have no reason to fear - unless - "

He was silent again for a moment. I waited, dizzy, my heart pounding and my nerves fraying, until I could stand it no longer and burst out, "Unless _what_?"

"Unless you cannot do what your father claims you can."

I was thrown. "What - what did he say I could do?"

The man was studying me carefully. "He claimed that you were able to perform the Imperius curse."

"Oh," I said. I felt suddenly sick. "Oh, no. Oh, no."

"You cannot, then?" he asked, very softly. "Well. How very disappointing. It was, as I suspected, merely the boasting of a drunken man."

"I - no!" I cried out. "Please, my Lord - please - at least allow me to try - "

"I would not wish to impose on you," he said in a cold voice.

I felt tears pricking the backs of my eyes and desperately willed them away, which of course meant that I started to cry. "No," I whimpered, mortified. "No, please. I - you have to let me try, at least - I bet I could do it, I've done plenty of hexes, oh, please, my Lord - "

He laughed. It was a hideous sound, hateful and mocking, and only made me cry harder.

"Hexes! You can perform hexes! And you think a hex could prepare you to perform the Imperius Curse? Oh, child, you have a great deal to learn."

He was looking at me with some amusement. I suppose I made a sight, desperate and tear-stained, but I didn't even care.

"Here we are, Bellatrix," he said silkily. "I'll make you a deal, little one, earnest little girl that you are. I know you want this very badly and I would not like to turn you away without even giving you a chance."

"Oh, my Lord," I breathed.

"Here is your task, little Bellatrix. If you can discover my name - the name that my most intimate followers call me by - if you can discover this name within three days' time, then I promise to train you as we had hoped to do."

I could hardly breathe. My good fortune was beyond even my comprehension.

I managed to give him my thanks and make an awkard bow before I stumbled from the room, light-headed. Mr. Mulciber smiled at me, clapped me on the shoulder, and went in after me. Father arrived five minutes later to pick me up, and checked me over several times with great suspicion for any sign of damage. We did not see Mr. Mulciber or the man in the room again before we left.

By rights I should have been furious at my father, for causing me such humiliation in front of the Dark Lord, but if it hadn't been for his ridiculous boasting on me then I would never have been introduced to the Dark Lord at all. So I put it out of my mind. He seemed very nervous and hesitant and never asked what had transpired after he left. I didn't volunteer anything and we never said another word about it. His part in this was all best to be forgotten.

It was fate. I knew it was fate. How else to explain something so perfect, yet so unlikely? If everything hadn't happened just so it never would have happened, so it was clear to me it was meant to have happened. I never doubted the certainty of my discovering His name. I had come this far - it was obviously preordained and I couldn't be kept from my rightful place in the universe on such a small technicality.

I had no real idea how I might find out the Dark Lord's name. At first, coming off the heady glow of our first meeting, I felt certain that inspiration would simply strike me when He deemed it the right time. He would probably make me wait, I knew, but He would merely be trying to test my faith.

A few hours later reality set in and I realized that He would never make it so easy for me. Even though I knew that our union was preordained, it remained up to me to show Him that by completing the task He had set before me.

How to complete the task? How to honor Him by discovering His name, so sacred, so powerful that He had to keep it secret lest it wreck the minds of mere men? I knew it must be glorious. I could feel that it was glorious, something that even when whispered would fill a whole room.

I sat with my sisters that night after dinner while Andromeda listened to a radio program and Narcissa cut photos out of magazines for her scrapbook. Narcissa pestered me to tell her where I had been that day, since she suspected Father might have been buying me presents and treating me special. I hadn't been planning to but I told them everything, feeling simultaneously relieved and disgusted. It wasn't that I told them anything really. The actual events that transpired meant nothing, but it was all that they could understand, and all that I could give them. To tell them of what had really happened, my feelings, my revelations - it felt wrong, weak somehow, that I should tell them and give up this wonderful beautiful glowing prize that I held so close to my heart. I knew they wouldn't understand.

I was somewhat gratified when Andromeda actually turned off her radio program to listen because she never pays a speck of attention when other people talk. But then she and Narcissa started in with stupid questions and I was tremendously sorry I had told them anything.

"What did the scary man's face look like?" Narcissa asked, even though I had already told her I couldn't tell.

"Was Mr. Mulciber good-looking?" Andromeda demanded.

I yelled at them. They were wasting time, I told them, and they needed to settle down and help me think of what the Dark Lord's name might be. Narcissa suggested we join hands and meditate and Andromeda called her a fool.

Narcissa was very good with names, though, and she had lots of suggestions. Andromeda ran down to our library and got some history books, thinking that perhaps the Dark Lord had used the name of another famous Dark Wizard to draw some power from it. Of course Andromeda can't be helpful and obedient for more than five minutes at a stretch, so after she got the books she set about looking for all the goriest stories to read out loud to Narcissa to make her cry. It was an awful trial trying to keep both of them on track for the whole night but I did my best, and we worked like that until around eleven-thirty when Mother sent one of the house elves to put us to bed.

The next morning when I woke up, I felt tremendously silly. How could I have thought even for a second that I could discover the Dark Lord's name by blind guessing?

I wasted most of the day lazing around with my sisters. I spent a lot of time with them ordinarily and with no real plan of attack, I had no reason to differ from routine. My sisters and I had always been close. We did a lot of things together and we fought fairly often but that's I guess to be expected. I knew I was smarter than them and more mature but I still cared for them very much, more than I cared for anyone else. I had always known we were different, that there was some part of me that they didn't share, but it had never really mattered - I had still been able to relate to them and be one of them.

When I came out to see them they were gabbling about some radio star - Sonny Klapp - who they both liked. Narcissa had seen an article on him in the paper and had clipped it out and now they were occupied studiously pooling all the gossip they had collected about him. They both said hullo to me very cheerfully when I came out and joined them but seemed to have forgotten last night entirely. After five minutes or so Andromeda remembered, and she and Narcissa entertained each other for the next half hour or so making up silly names, and Narcissa gigglingly bet two Galleons that it was really Sonny Klapp.

I felt I could barely move and just sat there, wondering. I couldn't help feeling that my life had been turned upside down. I'm different, I thought, I am different. I had always known it was true but had never realized it's impact until now. I was wholly seperate from them, on a wholly different plane of existence and I could never be one of them again and it stabbed so badly inside I tried not to think about it, and when I thought about it I could feel a sick wrench in my guts and my heart sinking and I wanted to pull away and be alone.

I couldn't understand it, couldn't fathom how the Dark Lord's name, his very being, which so utterly moved me as to leave me a genuinely new person after I became aware of His existence, could mean absolutely nothing to them. Were we so different? How had I lived in the same home with them for so many years and not realized it? How was it we were just now coming apart? I hated it, to have all the differences between us laid out like this before me - it was so cruel and unnecessary. Why couldn't I be allowed to enjoy being with them? It was unfair.

But now I couldn't stand to see them, to hear them chatter mindlessly about things that were of so little consequence when I was sitting there holding within my breast the deepest truths of the universe. Were they so foolish, so impervious to wisdom that they couldn't they read between the lines and see the import of what I had told them last night?

I hated to be in the room with them but I couldn't stand to be alone. Alone I was frazzled, nervous, couldn't concentrate, consumed by the knowledge that time was going by and I was doing nothing but I didn't know what to do so I couldn't do anything so I just sat and fretted. I could think better listening to my sisters bicker and chatter because then at least I wasn't wholly alone, even though I still felt more lonely than I ever had in my life. More lonely, but yet somehow more pure, more alive than I had ever felt before.

Touched by his glory, my life was now revived, given meaning. I had a place in the world, a purpose. _The search for purity and truth. _The words rang in my head, reverberating with their greatness and the exquisite, painful awesomeness of their meaning. I thought about them constantly, pondered the depth of their meaning - I felt them every moment, with every breath, felt how perfect and right they were. Purity and truth. They were the ultimate goal, the ultimate aim of life - and it awed me, overpowered me that I could know this, be privy to this amazing, eternal truth. It was like the universe had opened up and shared its deepest, most powerful secret with me, tiny little me.

I carried this secret around like a talisman. I found that it was difficult to even interact with people anymore. They seemed so simple - not just because they didn't have the perspective that I did, but because even if I expressed to them this great, universal secret, it would be lost on them. They wouldn't understand, they couldn't understand. Purity and truth - these words that meant the world to me would have no meaning for Andromeda and Narcissa and Mother and Father, and understanding this I was once again awed by them.

Why me? Why had I been chosen to bear this glorious truth? I didn't know; I couldn't know. I realized that even though I was very great for bearing this truth, I was still only a vessel - that no matter how much resonance it had with me it could never truly resonate, not as it did with Him, He who had made it his life's quest to discover this truth and bring it to the world whether it liked it or not. His devotion and greatness so overpowered me I felt I was like to die. I believed in God and heaven and hell but this was so much more, so deep and immediate. I believed in God and the Bible, yes, I knew there was a God, absolutely I knew there was a God, but I _felt_ the Dark Lord's greatness as I had never felt God. I didn't know if this was wrong or not but it was just how I felt.

I spent the day in a fog until I was brought to my senses around two when Mother reminded us that Mr. Rookwood would be joining us for dinner that evening and that we needed to look neat and be on our best behavior. Mr. Rookwood was a very old friend of our family and I had known him since I was practially a baby. He was like an uncle to us and probably the nicest person I knew, always kind and gentlemanly and he never talked down to you or scolded you or anything like that, because you never acted up in his presence and you wanted to be good and have him treat you just the same as he treated your parents. My parents talk about what an important man he is and that he has a lot of connections. All important people have a lot of connections but I never know what they're connecting them to.

Mr. Rookwood arrived about seven even though dinner wasn't until eight. My parents always invited Mr. Rookwood around because he's a bachelor and I'm sure he's very lonely. I don't see why he's a bachelor because I think he's quite handsome but maybe he doesn't have a lot of money. I wouldn't care if my husband had a lot of money, just as long as he was very sharp and didn't ever say anything dirty or act like any of the boys I had known. Honestly I didn't ever really want to be married, but if I did my husband would have to be a gentleman like Mr. Rookwood and not some horrid crude person with lots of vile things on his mind.

When Mr. Rookwood got there he talked to my parents for about a half an hour and then came and visited with my sisters and I. Naturally Andromeda and Narcissa were clamboring all over him and behaving appallingly, but Mr. Rookwood just laughed and seemed to think they were very amusing. I hoped one day I would be as patient as him but I'm not so after only ten minutes of their fawning I got very cross with them and told them to leave off Mr. Rookwood and stop pestering him so.

Mr. Rookwood smiled at me, and his eyes twinkled, and I thought right then that he would understand about the Dark Lord and everything. I was feeling like I wanted to cry right then, just from not feeling so scared and alone anymore, and because I felt so much affection for Mr. Rookwood, but the dinner bell rang and Narcissa and Andromeda raced off to go claim their places at the table.

Mr. Rookwood walked with me at a much more sedate pace and he asked me about school and how I was doing. I told him everything was very fine and then said I wanted to talk to him after dinner.

At the table Andromeda demanded that Mr. Rookwood sit by her, and Mother snapped at her for being such a terrible brat and that made me feel vindicated. She and Father sat on either side of Mr. Rookwood anyway and they all bored on about politics. Mr. Rookwood works with the Ministry so he has a lot of insider information that Mother and Daddy think is perfectly fascinating but which about puts me to sleep. I don't understand politics at all and I think it's very boorish to discuss them at the table, especially when you get into arguments like Mr. Rookwood and my parents sometimes do, but they're old friends and usually they agree so I guess it's not as bad as it could be. My aunt always says discussing politics at the table gives her indigestion and I'm inclined to agree with her. The only subject more boring than politics is money.

Dinner seemed to take about three hours but finally I had Mr. Rookwood all to myself, after he excused himself from Mother and Father who went to the drawing room to have a little port while my sisters played board games and listened to the radio. I told him everything. It took much longer than the version I told my sisters because I really told him everything, about how I had been feeling and about what Mr. Mulciber said about the Dark Lord's mission and so forth because I knew, I just knew that Mr. Rookwood would understand.

Mr. Rookwood looked extremely shocked. He asked me to clarify a few things and then he sat back against the loveseat, looking winded. I began to get a little nervous, thinking maybe I had said something wrong.

"I don't want you to ever speak of this again," Mr. Rookwood said very quietly and his face was very white and serious like I had never seen him before.

I was nearly in tears. I had thought Mr. Rookwood would understand but now he didn't and oh, my heart was like to break. "You don't understand - "

"I do understand," he said harshly. "You got mixed up in some very bad business that you have no place in. You are - you're much too young. Much, much too young. I can't believe - "

"What?" I demanded, eager. "What bad business - do you know about it? Do you know the Dark Lord?"

"Intimately," he said.

I was electrified. "_You know his name,_" I whispered.

"And I will never speak it in your presence unto death!" he snapped.

I began to cry then, and he seemed very sorry and touched my shoulder and smoothed my hair down. Mr. Rookwood had never spoken so harshly to me, ever, and it made me feel frightened and lost again. How could he be so cruel to deny me the one thing I had ever truly wanted when he was the only one who could give it to me?

"Bellatrix, listen to me," he said very quietly. "The Dark Lord is an extremely powerful man with very little time on his hands. He does not take on apprentices. I know you say you felt a certain - connection - with him, but please believe me, he has no intention of training you or anyone else."

"He made me a deal," I said, sniffling into Mr. Rookwood's knee.

"Deals - well, he has a peculiar sense of humor, you see. He probably said that in jest, to tease you."

"He was serious," I mumbled. Mr. Rookwood stroked my hair.

"Bellatrix," he said softly. "Do me a favor, please. Forget that all of this happened."

I saw him reaching for his wand out of the corner of my eye and I went very still. I wanted to stand, to back away, to run, but I couldn't budge, couldn't believe he would really -

"I can't believe he would do such a thing," he murmured, still running a hand through my hair. "You're such a lovely child. So sweet and talented and intelligent. How could anyone play such hurtful games with you?"

It was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my chest. I felt so dizzy.

"It's because he doesn't know children. Doesn't like them, doesn't understand them. Once he became Voldemort he left his childhood behind and has never looked - "

"Voldemort," I whispered.

He stood up all at once. I slid away from him limply.

"He'll never train you," Mr. Rookwood said, his face deathly pale. I could only stare up at him, blank, empty. He looked sick. He raised his wand at me.

Mr. Rookwood left very soon after. He barely said goodbye to my parents and said not a word to my sisters. It wasn't until later that Narcissa commented he had gone without giving them their kiss and hug and Andromeda, very put out, said that she should give him a terrific scolding next she saw him.

I woke the next morning feeling like all my limbs were weighted down. I tossed and turned for an hour, trying to go back to sleep, before I was finally forced to wake up. I was exhausted. My skin tingled. I wanted to curl up in the blankets and cry.

As I lay there I wanted to hit myself for wasting time but I didn't know what to do. I was so close but I didn't know what to do. My foolhardy confidence of the first day haunted me now - how could I have been such an idiot? How could I ever have thought that I could find out the Dark Lord's name? The task was enormous. I knew nothing about him - not where he was born, his parents, what he looked like; I didn't even know if he had gone to Hogwarts. I knew then that he hadn't been serious, that he had never expected me to find out his name, had never had any intention of training me, and I cowered in shame.

At eleven thirty Mother came in. I never slept in so she thought I was sick and I let her. I felt sick. I couldn't move and I wanted to throw up. At noon she brought me some lunch, turned the blinds down and let me alone.

Last night seemed very fuzzy. I didn't know what happened. I couldn't remember anything, I felt slow and stupid. I began to cry then, very softly. I felt wretched all over. I knew that Mr. Rookwood had come to visit but I had no recollection of his visit. Was I so very sick? Maybe the Dark Lord would give me an extra day because I was sick, but I hoped he wouldn't because then I would have another whole day of agony, knowing that greatness was within my grasp but that I was too weak to reach out and catch hold of it. Knowing that made me want to die. I could have died. It would have been better than this.

Andromeda and Narcissa came in to visit me around one. Andromeda had apparently convinced Narcissa that she had inadvertantly made me ill, so as soon as Narcissa came in the room she started crying and apologizing and Andromeda laughed at her. I didn't really want to see either of them but I couldn't be troubled sending them away so they stayed, brightly perched on the edge of my bed like songbirds.

They talked about Mr. Rookwood's visit. They wanted to know what he had talked about with me before I left, but I didn't remember. This sent Narcissa into a nervous flutter but Andromeda thought I was just holding out on them and questioned me further. I couldn't tell her anything, though, so she soon dropped the subject.

I asked them where Mr. Rookwood was today. Neither of them knew. Narcissa said she thought she remembered him saying he had a meeting, but Narcissa has a mind like a sieve and can't be trusted to remember anything probably. I thought that I would go visit Mr. Rookwood because I was so sorry I had missed his visit or whatever had happened. I love when Mr. Rookwood comes to visit.

I thought I would sneak out after dinner. It would give me something to look forward to and take my mind off my troubles. I didn't know why I was sneaking out. I never snuck out but I knew I had to see Mr. Rookwood tonight. It was very important that I see him but I couldn't tell why. Probably just that I was so attached to him.

It wasn't hard to sneak out. Andromeda and Narcissa ran off after dinner to play and after Mother gave me some medicine she didn't even fuss over me. Mother is much more inclined to fuss after my sisters but I don't blame her since they are too stupid to take care of themselves when it comes to things like minor illnesses.

Mummy and Daddy went up to their bedroom because we didn't have any guests, and I went into the drawing room, took some Floo powder and flung it into the fireplace, telling it to take me to Mr. Rookwood's flat. We have the address charmed in because he is on our emergency contacts list.

Mr. Rookwood's flat was always cold and dark. It was so lonely here and when I climbed out of the fireplace and dusted myself off I was feeling very sick again just because it was so lonely. I was about to call out for Mr. Rookwood when I saw him coming into the hall dressed in long black robes with the hood pulled up. He had a mask in his hand.

He saw me and jerked back in shock. "Bellatrix," he gasped. "What on earth - "

"I came to see you," I said quickly. My heart was pounding. "I missed you last night - or - and I just wanted to say I was sorry and - and say hello - "

He was staring at me very strangely. "Say hello," he echoed.

"Yes," I said. "Just so."

"You - you came alone?"

It didn't occur to me until then that this was strange. "Well," I said. "My parents had gone to bed."

He looked frightened. "Bellatrix," he said, "you must go home now. I have somewhere to be."

"I should come with you," I told him. What was I doing, why was I here? I was feeling so weak and sick. "Where are you going?"

"Someplace," he said. "A place."

"I'm coming." I was nearly about to fall over, I was so weak and dizzy.

"You're going home. You - you don't remember, do you?"

I started to feel like I would be sick and I began to cry. "Why are you dressed like that?" I sobbed.

He looked as if he wanted to weep too. "Please go home, Bellatrix," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He threw some Floo powder in the fire and said my address. I looked back at him as I stepped in to the fire. He was standing, slightly stooped, his mask dangling from one hand and the other covering his face.

Once I came through the Floo at home I felt hot and itchy all over. I was buzzing with energy, hot, bubbling up under my skin. Sweat poured off me even after I had three glasses of ice water. It was probably because Mr. Rookwood's apartment had been so cold because he cast cooling charms all the time because I remember he used to joke with us when we were little that he liked to enjoy hot chocolate at any time of the year.

I went in to see my sisters but I don't remember it. They said I was acting very strange, jabbering very quickly and looking very bright-eyed. I don't remember anything I said but that they both thought it was very queer talk from me and told me to have a bath and go to bed and Narcissa kept telling Andromeda she thought I probably had the cholera or typhoid fever, diseases she had picked out of some muggle book she had had to copy out of for punishment.

I took a bath. I was in such a daze I poured out shampoo all over myself and tried to use it as soap. I couldn't feel anything, not the water against my skin or the soap bar under my fingers. I turned the water up scalding hot until at last I cried out and tears pricked my eyes. I turned it down to practically freezing and then I just lay there for a half hour before finally I woke with a start and got out and dried off.

I stumbled into bed, zombie-like, wondering if maybe I did have the cholera afterall. The covers felt hot and itchy against my skin so I kicked them off. I was suddenly quite tired, my whole body feeling like it was made of lead. Right before I fell asleep I whispered aloud, "Voldemort."

Mr. Rookwood's visit came back to me in my dreams that night and at first when I woke up I thought it had been a dream. I felt I was in a fog, still dreaming.

I was utterly calm. I felt a certain peace about me now, an almost inhuman grace that lifted me up above the rest of the world to a higher place where I looked down and simply observed. I watched my sisters squabble at breakfast with total indifference, not even feeling disdain for their immaturity. I felt nothing.

Over breakfast I told Father that he needed to take me back to that flat in London today. Immediately Andromeda and Narcissa began demanding what and why and who and when but I just went on nibbling at my toast as if I didn't hear a word they said. Father stared at my dumbfounded for some minutes but didn't really protest.

Father was very hesitant about taking me back to the flat. He fumbled around for at least fifteen minutes trying to find his shoes and asking Mother silly questions. I was patient. Time meant nothing. My sisters fluttered around, pestering me and trying to get me riled, but they got soon got bored when they realized I wasn't paying them any attention and ran off to play. I managed to get my father out the door soon after, although his steps dragged noticeably.

Mr. Mulciber opened the door and admitted me, with no little amount of surprise. I thanked him in a quiet voice. Somewhat baffled, he told Father they would summon him when I was ready to go. I went in and looked around. On second look I saw that the flat was not just lonely but musty, mildew on the walls and cobwebs lining the corners. I wondered what the arrangement here was but was too polite to ask.

Mr. Mulciber stared at me for a long moment. He said I could go in and see the Dark Lord, but warned that He was probably not expecting me.

I went down the hall. The calm rang in my ears and thrummed in my blood; I was impervious to my own senses, the calm collected around me like a thick cloak. The door was already slightly ajar but I knocked softly anyway.

"Enter," His voice came. I stepped inside. He had obviously not been expecting me but took it in a stride. I could faintly see his lips curve in a smile beneath his hood.

"Well," he said silkily. "Bellatrix, isn't it? You have surprised me, child ... I admit I had not thought I would see you. But it is has been three days, has it not?"

I didn't nod. He didn't want me to, I could tell.

"Have you an answer for me, Bellatrix?" he asked in a soft voice, his eyes glittering brightly in the shadow cast by his hood.

I stood immobile for a moment, transfixed. I had thought days ago that I stood poised on the path to attaining eternal truth, but it was not until this moment that it truly sank in and for a moment I could do nothing but stand, frozen, as my mind struggled to grasp the significance of what was about to take place.

"My Lord," I breathed at last. "Lord Voldemort."

I slumped to my knees and crawled forth to kiss the hem of his robes. At length he reach one thing, ghostly pale hand underneath my chin and raised my head to look him in the eye.

"Bellatrix," he said softly. "My new apprentice."


End file.
